Kisses and Sissy Stuff
by HamPickleSandwich
Summary: Huey feels out of the loop. What's the difference between them and Daisy? As a result, he turns to his uncle. Oneshot. I only own the plot.


It was common knowledge that their uncle had temper problems. His long time girlfriend pointed it out all the time. What Huey just never seemed to get was that why Donald only ever seemed to ever be happiest when Daisy was around? His brothers were just as equally confused with their uncle's antics. They weren't that badly behaved, really. Now and then, they did some things that made life go askew, but it turned out right eventually. So why did Donald get mad at them so easily? Why did his words get sucked back into his mouth when his girlfriend said but a single word of reproach? It was infuriatingly confusing. Looking up, he noticed his brothers in the room; Dewey reading an old and faded comic book, and Louie fiddling with their remote control car. Either they hadn't noticed his confusion or they were subtly trying to ignore it. He sighed, flopping back down on his bed in a huff. Dewey looked up from his comic, tilting his head just slightly.

"Huey? What's wrong?" he asked, his quiet voice only sounding a little concerned.

"Nothing, I guess. Thinking about Unca Donald, actually." Huey muttered to his brother. Their 10 year old selves were not quite old enough to drop the informality of their uncles' name. Either that or they had somehow inherited his speech impediment. Dewey nodded absently. He didn't seem phased by Huey's reply. Wanting some attention, Huey spoke.

"Have you ever wondered why he never really gets mad around Daisy?" he asked to nobody in particular. Dewey shrugged. Louie turned to face him, ignoring the toy car.

"She's his girlfriend, Huey. You know, kisses and sissy stuff." he informed him, poking his tongue out in disgust. Huey turned his gaze to the ceiling, still confused.

"Yeah, and we're his nephews. Unca Donald used to give us kisses... he still gets mad at us pretty easy." Huey countered, his voice unsure. Dewey and Louie gagged in unison with him at the mention of kisses from their uncle. Still, he was left to ponder over what the difference was. His thoughts were still on his uncle as he wandered down the stairs. He could hear somebody cooking in the kitchen; it was close to dinner time.

"Unca Donald?" he asked the figure standing at the stove. Donald Duck was whistling happily while he stirred at something which smelt just slightly off. Huey sighed; Donald was never the most original cook. Donald stopped whistling, turning quickly to glimpse at who was addressing him. Huey hopped up onto a kitchen chair, keeping his mind on staying focused. He drummed his fingers on the table mildly. Donald tapped some salt into the concoction he had created, and continued to stir. The tension was laced in the air.

"What's on your mind, Huey?" he quacked amiably, not turning away from the stove.

"I was wondering about... the difference between us and Daisy." Huey mumbled, thinking suddenly that this could lead into something he did NOT want to talk about with his uncle. Obviously Donald realised the same thing, as his body suddenly went rigid.

"Whaddya mean?" his uncle asked, his voice sounding very reluctant. Huey felt his face go hot. Needing a distraction, he left his seat, and got a glass of water from the sink.

"I mean how you never get mad around Daisy, Unca Donald!" Huey amended his mistake quickly. He noticed a ripple of relief go down Donald's spine as he slouched slightly again. Taking a long draught from his glass, Huey thought of how to start.

"I was just wondering why you never get mad when Daisy's around, Unca Donald." he stated, hoping it didn't sound too much like he was entering the preferably avoided subject. Donald let out a little noise which held emotions that he never really showed. It was something like embarrassment and guilt. Huey cocked his head to the side.

"I was hoping you wouldn't want to know about these things for a few years." Donald admitted, turning the heat off the stove and taking a seat opposite Huey. In return, Huey shrugged absently, taking another drink from his glass. They stared at each other.

"Well, whaddya wanna know?" Donald asked his nephew, breaking the silence.

"How come you never get angry when Daisy's around? Louie said it was cause of kisses and sissy stuff... So what about that makes Daisy so special?" he asked, choosing his words somewhat carefully. Donald let out a little sigh of contentment and awe.

"It's not sissy stuff, Huey, its love." his uncle replied reverently. Huey pressed on.

"What is love then?" he asked, becoming more confused and curious. Donald laughed.

"It's mysterious! Nobody really knows what it is! But what it's like, that's something else..." he trailed off, his eyes staring off into space while his head fell onto his hand.

"What's it like then?" Huey queried eagerly. Donald practically jumped up in excitement.

"When you see her, it's like you're suddenly spinning around and around and around... it sounds scary to you now, but when it happens, it's the best thing that can happen!" he exclaimed happily, waving his hands about excitedly. Huey was starting to feel scared.

"So what about us, Unca Donald?" Donald snapped out of his reverie. What about them.

"Well, there's love, and there's love. Both different, but they work the same way."

"So what's the difference between us and Daisy?" Huey asked his nagging question again.

"You boys are family. Daisy isn't. So Daisy can leave any time she likes. I'll have you boys forever, so it doesn't really matter if I get mad. With Daisy, if I lose her, that's forever too. She doesn't like me when I get mad, so I try to stay happy around her." his uncle explained thoroughly. Huey nodded, suddenly understanding.

So the difference was no sissy stuff and bad behaviour, it was family; who would always be there, and love; the keeper of which could reject it and leave them broken forever. Huey had seen Donald when he was broken before; when he and his brothers had misbehaved on a Christmas Day. Daisy had been there that time. So how bad could it be if she was the one to break Donald? As he retired early that evening, he decided he never ever wanted to find out.


End file.
